My Sister Runaway from her Wedding, so I became the Bride

"You’re going to take her place, Eloise."

My father’s words still echoed in my head as the sleek black car sped down the winding road toward the Rings of Faith estate. They’d barely left his mouth last night before he shoved Rosie’s wedding dress into my arms.

"She ran away. If you don’t do this, Eloise, they’ll come after us. After all of us."

He didn’t need to say more. Rosie’s recklessness had put us here—her drunk driving accident, the death of some mafia enforcer, the mountain of debts—and now she’d bolted, leaving me to clean up the mess.

“Miss Kane,” the driver’s deep voice cut through my thoughts as the gates of the estate came into view. “We’ve arrived.”

The car rolled to a stop in front of the sprawling mansion. Gold accents gleamed against black stone, the place exuding wealth and power. Men in tailored suits lined the entrance, their cold, calculating gazes tracking my every move as I stepped out.

My fingers gripped the lace hem of the dress as I tried to steady my breathing. Rosie should have been here. This was supposed to be her wedding, her punishment, not mine. But my mother needed the surgery, and my father had made it clear—there was no way out of this.

A tall, sharp-eyed woman greeted me at the door. Livia Montello. I recognized her from the photograph my father had shown me. She was the mother of the mafia heir I was about to marry—and the one holding my family’s fate in her hands.

“You’ll do,” she said briskly, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. “Follow me.”

Her heels clicked against the marble floors as she led me inside. The mansion’s interior was just as imposing as the outside—ornate chandeliers, black-and-gold furniture, and an oppressive silence that seemed to swallow everything.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s the groom? Aren’t we heading to the church?”

Livia stopped abruptly and turned. “Church?” Her voice carried a hint of amusement. “We’re the Montellos, not some starry-eyed lovers. The ceremony will be here. And as for the groom—”

She gestured toward a set of double doors at the end of the hall. Two men in suits pushed them open, and I froze.

Inside, there was no altar. No groom waiting in a tuxedo. Instead, there was a bed.

A bed where a man lay, motionless.

I blinked, trying to process what I was seeing. “What is this?” I whispered, my voice shaking.

Livia strode into the room without hesitation, standing beside the bed as if this was completely normal. “This,” she said, “is Darkon Montello, heir to the Rings of Faith mafia group.”

My mouth went dry. The man on the bed—Darkon—looked nothing like I expected. He was young, maybe late twenties, with dark hair and striking features that seemed carved from stone. But his eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in shallow, mechanical breaths.

“He’s…” I struggled to form the words. “He’s in a coma.”

“Correct,” Livia said without a hint of emotion. “Didn’t your father tell you?”

A thousand questions swirled in my head, but only one managed to escape. “Why? Why would you marry him off if he’s… like this?”

“Because it’s necessary.” Her cold eyes bore into mine. “Darkon’s condition doesn’t change his position as heir. This union solidifies an agreement, one that will protect your family and ensure you get the money for your mother’s surgery.”

“But—”

She cut me off with a wave of her hand. “Enough questions. The ceremony begins now. Sign the contract.”

A man appeared at my side, holding out a pen and a thick stack of papers. My hands trembled as I took the pen, my mind racing. This wasn’t a marriage—it was a transaction. A contract to bind me to a man who wasn’t even conscious.

I stared at the paper, the black ink blurring before my eyes. My father’s words came back to me: If you don’t do this, your mother dies.

I signed.

The moment my name hit the page, Livia clapped her hands. “Good. It’s done.”

The witnesses murmured their approval, and the weight of what I’d just agreed to settled over me like a crushing tide.

Livia turned back to Darkon. “You’ll move into the estate immediately. Your duty is simple: care for him, ensure the stability of this union, and in three months, you have to…” Her lips curved into a cold smile. “Produce an heir.”

My stomach churned. “An heir? How… am I supposed to do that with him lying lifeless on bed?”